At first glance, Percy Jackson is the son of Poseidon, the Hero of Olympus, survivor of Tartarus, the defeater of Monsters; but deep within his roots stems magic that reaches into another world: the world of wizards and witches and dark lords and on...
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Harry's birthday rolled around like it had every year before. He was seventeen today, Percy Jackson thought wryly.
Silena cooed in her sleep, wriggling in Percy's arms. Percy smiled fondly at his baby girl, eyes drawn away from the dark clouds in the London sky. Severus Snape's apartment was gloomy as usual, and as neat and orderly as the man himself. Books lined the walls roof-to-floor, and the big rug was squishy beneath Percy's shoes. Four steaming cups of tea sat on the nearby coffee-table, untouched, and Severus Snape himself was seated in his armchair, fingers interlaced in his lap. He stared at the empty fireplace and avoided Percy's gaze. They didn't speak much anymore.
Annabeth Jackson's footsteps thudded against the wooden flooring as she entered the small living room from the kitchen. She looked tired and ill, with greying skin and large bags beneath her eyes and unkempt princess curls. Her grey eyes looked slightly stricken as she met their gazes. "She's here."
Percy swallowed, straightening, and unconsciously held his child tighter to his chest.
A few moments later, the doorbell rang. Exchanging glances, Percy and Annabeth shared a silent conversation:
"Are you ready?"
"No."
"Let her in, please, Annabeth," Severus said softly. His wife nodded softly before sending a final glance Percy's way and turning to head to the front door. It creaked open, and another set of footsteps joined Annabeth's. It seemed like forever and not long enough before Piper McLean stepped over the threshold.
Piper hadn't changed much since Percy last saw her. Her hair was still choppy and waved around her face and her kaleidoscope eyes pierced into his heart. She carried a familiar bronze knife in its sheath, and her hand waved dangerously close to it. Her wand wasn't drawn, but Percy knew it was close.
Annabeth stepped around Piper carefully, picking up a cup of tea and sitting on the sofa. Swallowing thickly, Percy followed her lead, settling himself on the couch beside his wife and Silena in his lap, her green eyes locking on Piper. A long moment of silence passed before Silena reached her arms out towards Piper, a gummy smile displayed on her face. She had started that over the summer: the smiling. Somehow, through all of the darkness, this little beacon of light still managed to shine.
Percy glanced up at Piper, watching her eyes soften. He held Silena out to her, a gesture of trust if you will, and slowly, Piper inched forward and took the infant from him, cuddling her to her chest. "She's so soft," Piper whispered, as though afraid if she spoke any louder, Silena would cry.
"And terrible at sleeping," Annabeth said. "Between the two of us, we've had a total of six hours of sleep this week." This was true; Percy was running on fumes.
Piper shook her head, a smile breaking out on her face. She sat in the only other available armchair, cuddling Silena.
Annabeth sighed softly, and Percy could practically her his own heart pounding. At least Piper hadn't cursed them yet.
